Her Men Of Ruin

"Claire, what nonsense are you spouting?" Evan Scott, my boyfriend, reached for me while keeping his grip tight on Anne Walsh's hand.

I raised my hand and slapped him across the face. He clutched his cheek, staring at me in disbelief.

Anne lifted her skirt and hurried over, shielding Evan protectively as she whimpered delicately, "Claire, please calm down and don’t hurt Evan. I don’t want this wedding anymore. I’ll give the gown back to you. I can just die alone."

With that, she made a show of trying to take off the wedding dress she was wearing, but Evan quickly stopped her.

"Anne, this dress was always meant for you. This wedding should have been yours from the start!"

He carefully straightened every seam and bow of her gown, leaving nothing untouched. The pristine white dress made her look so fragile and delicate, even more dazzling and brittle than the chandeliers above.

This was the gown Evan had picked out for me, yet it fit her perfectly. Suddenly, I realized why the dress felt off when I tried it on—why I wanted alterations. Evan had insisted it couldn’t be adjusted because it was custom-made.

Now, I understood. It was always meant for Anne.

I laughed bitterly, a sound that caught Evan’s attention.

"Claire Wood, are you satisfied now? Do you really have to push her to the brink? Think about the child in your stomach. If you don’t want them to be born as an illegitimate child, you’d better behave and stop making a scene!"

The wedding march began to play. Flower girls scattered rose petals down the aisle as Evan, arm in arm with Anne, walked into the venue under the admiring gaze of the crowd.

As the piano played its joyful melody, a symbol of happiness, I called the hospital to book an abortion.

The guests whispered, as if I were the intruder, while the radiant couple on stage basked in their moment of glory.

When their vows of love echoed through the hall, I couldn’t bear the probing stares any longer and fled in humiliation.

Before I left, I glanced at my family sitting in the front row. They didn’t look surprised at all that the bride had changed.

My brother even went on stage to offer his congratulations.

"This wedding is truly spectacular! My brother-in-law really outdid himself!"

Anyone who didn’t know better might have thought the woman on stage was actually his sister.

After stepping off the stage and noticing my absence, my brother quickly sent me a message, "Hey, sis, hurry back! Don’t embarrass your husband. What’s the big deal? The marriage certificate still has your name on it, doesn’t it?”

"Just apologize properly. Evan promised to buy me a new car next month. I’ve already signed the contract! If he gets mad, are you going to pay the balance for me?"

My chest tightened instantly. With trembling hands, I texted back, "Haven’t I been giving you an allowance every month? Why would you ask Evan for something so expensive?"

The "typing" indicator lingered on his side for what felt like forever, but no reply ever came.

Instead, my parents called. The moment I picked up, they began shouting, "I can’t believe I gave birth to such a useless daughter! You can’t even buy your brother a car, and now you’re causing trouble on such an important day? Finally, you marry a generous husband, and instead of being grateful, you humiliate us in front of everyone!"

Amid their relentless scolding, I finally pieced together the truth.

No wonder my mother-in-law always hinted that I was greedy and treated me so coldly.

It turned out my parents and brother had been using my name to ask Evan for money countless times.

All the strength drained from my body, and I sank onto the stone steps at the center of the hall. My phone slipped from my hand, the call long disconnected.